


Speeding Bullet Prompt

by tiny-freakin-head (Hobbitfing)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, dad!spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/tiny-freakin-head
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://corinthemerado.tumblr.com/post/126057069208/so-its-speeding-bullet-month-and">corinthemerado</a> on Tumblr prompted: <i>I honest to god want more Speeding Bullet fics in which BLU Scout and RED Sniper are in an established relationship but Actual-Biological-Father-But-SHHHH-Scout-Doesn’t-Know!Red Spy doesn’t approve so he keeps opening friendly-fire on his teammate’s ass.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>….Anybody interested in writing a fic?  *puppy dog eyes*</i></p><p> </p><p>So...here's our attempt! I hope they enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speeding Bullet Prompt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a roleplay between my wife and I. She doesn't have an AO3 account.

Soldier and Demo huddled together giggling was usually a sign of trouble.

Spy sighed; he really didn’t want to become involved in whatever immature, lunatic idiocy those two were planning, but at the same time…he wouldn’t be much of a spy if he didn’t investigate..well, everything. Cloaking, he approached the snickering pair.

“$5 says he’s got the little hoor on his back inside o’ ten minutes.”

“Twelve red-blooded American dollars says he got him on his side inside of MY FIST!” Soldier retorted, in a bellow-whisper.

Spy didn’t even bother trying to puzzle that one out; Soldier was incomprehensible at the best of times, and judging by the enormous bottle of scrumpy being passed back and forth, this was not one of those times.

It was plain enough _what_ those two imbeciles were watching, but the question was _who_? Always alert for possible blackmailing opportunities, Spy crept past his teammates so he could see.

He barely suppressed a gasp at what he saw—his Sniper, seated on a crate, and in his lap…Spy felt bile rise in his throat.

In the filthy bushman’s lap was his s—the enemy Scout.

The boy’s legs were wrapped around Sniper’s waist, arms draped across the Australian’s shoulders, their mouths pressed together, and mon dieu, the noises they were making!

Spy’s balisong was in his hand before he’d even registered reaching for it, but he was so distracted that he fumbled as he flipped it open, the blade slicing cleanly through his glove and into his palm, spilling a trickle of blood on his crisp trousers. Blood on his suit—yet another strike against the Australian.

At the flick of the knife, Sniper’s ears all but pricked up. He pulled away from Scout, grinning when the boy whined. “Spy?” he called.

“Nooo, jeez Snipes, shut up an’ kiss me!”

Spy, still cloaked, gave another warning clack.

“I’d rather not get stabbed, luv, just a second,” Sniper told him, listening.

Scout sighed, but pulled away. “Fine. I gotta get back, anyway. See you later?”

Sniper gave him a quick kiss to the temple. “See you tomorrow,” he murmured, turning his head slowly, listening as Scout sprinted away.

Within a few seconds, the BLU Scout was out of sight, on the way back to his own base.

Satisfied that Sniper had taken his warning, Spy folded his knife.

Sniper stood and, in two long strides, closed the distance between them, grabbing the invisible man’s shoulder.

Spy grunted, attempting to twist away as his cloak dropped. “What are you doing? Get your filthy hands off my suit, jar man.”

“Shouldn’t be sneakin’ about flicking knives, not around your teammates.”

“I was simply looking out for your interests. Protecting you from a potentially…embarrassing situation, mon ami. And that Scout is not my teammate. Or yours.”

“We’re all friendly off the battlefield.” Except you, Sniper thought. “And you’re doin’ no such thing. You’re just sneakin’ and spyin’.”

“It is my job. You could have been in danger.” Clearly a threat. Spy broke Sniper’s hold on his shoulder and took a step back. “You couldn’t simply fuck our Scout? Tell me, what is it like,” his voice dropped to a low, perverse whisper, “putting a bullet through your young lover’s brain,” Spy hoped none of his own emotion showed as he said this, “over…and over…or have you simply stopped killing him? There are records of these things, mon ami. If it were brought to the Administrator’s attention that you are slipping…”

Sniper struggled to keep his expression neutral. He turned away, ignoring Spy and heading to his camper. His hands were in fists and his heart was pounding. If he’d had his kukri, he would’ve sliced the damn rat in half.

“Trust me, bushman. You do not want to continue down this road,” Spy called after him.

“Shut up, Spook,” Sniper called back.

***

The next time Scout dropped by (promptly after their next battle), Sniper pulled him into his camper for more privacy.

“Woah, hey Snipes!” The BLU Scout laughed. “You’re freakin’ eager today. I like it.”

“Yeah, thought we could spend more time alone this time,” Sniper chuckled, kissing the runner. “How’d you do today?”

“Pretty good, pretty good. Got the Intel twice.” Scout laughed again and climbed onto his lover’s lap. “Felt your bullet go right past me the second time. How ‘bout you?”

“So predictable, bushman,” Spy growled under his breath. He’d staked out the camper, and he hadn’t been disappointed. He’d spent the night researching—Sniper’s kill count for the enemy Scout had remained irritatingly—professionally, he could grudgingly admit—even.

“Did pretty well. Was damn pissed that I missed you, though,” he grinned. “Did you notice me aimin’ for you or was that dumb luck?” If anyone would avoid Sniper by accident, it was Scout. Always flipping around.  
“Total fluke,” Scout admitted, kissing Sniper.

“It’s only you,” Sniper laughed, kissing back, pulling Scout down onto his bed.

Spy realized he’d torn one of his beautiful, custom-rolled cigarettes to pieces. He dropped the shredded paper and bits of tobacco and stalked off.

***

Sniper was focused through his scope, lining up with the BLU Medic, waiting until the shot was clear. Nearly there…

Spy, currently cloaked as his counterpart, hesitated at the top of the ladder leading to the aptly named nest. He wanted Sniper to suffer for not heeding his warning, but not at his team’s expense. He’d wait for the Australian to take the shot, then he’d strike.

Sniper’s whole world had narrowed to his view through the scope, and he felt the familiar rush as he squeezed the trigger, the rifle kicking him in the shoulder over his permanent bruise. Medic’s head turned into red mist and he grinned.

As soon as he saw the tension leave Sniper’s body, Spy moved in for the kill. This warranted more than a simple backstab. Every movement was so familiar; it was just like killing the enemy Sniper, only—he demanded honestly of himself—better. He stepped deep into Sniper’s personal space, too close for his kukri, even. With one arm, he reached around Sniper’s shoulder, pinning his arm to his side, and reached around to grab his opposite shoulder, pulling him down and back so he could reach and to keep Sniper off balance. His other hand snaked across Sniper’s throat, knife poised. He held like that for just a heartbeat, savouring the moment, before cutting the Australian’s throat.

Sniper managed a few bloody, sputtering breaths through the new hole in his throat before sliding off his perch. He choked and coughed, but faded quickly. It didn’t take long for respawn to pick up his body.

Smirking to himself, Spy hastened down the ladder to rejoin the battle.

Later, he caught Sniper as he was moving from one nest to another. Again cloaking as his counterpart, he slid behind the Australian and pressed his pistol to the base of Sniper’s skull. “Miss me?” he purred, right before he pulled the trigger.

Sniper came to in respawn, snarling. That damn spook! He was gonna blow his bleedin’ head off. He went back out and returned to his nest, kukri at the ready by his side.

At this point, RED was far enough ahead that Spy had more or less abandoned the main battle in favour of tormenting his own Sniper. He saw where the Australian was heading, and he was already waiting, cloaked, in the nest for the bushman.

Ears prickling and fingers twitching nervously, Sniper resumed looking through the scope. The enemy Demoman was laying down stickybombs and he had a clear shot of him. After a quick glance around his nest, he went back to the scope, narrowed everything into precision and minute adjustments, then blew the head off the Scot. “Gotcha, mate,” he growled.

Spy used the sound of Sniper’s voice to mask his approach. This time, he decided, he’d go for something simple and classic: a backstab.

Sniper hardly knew what had happened before he came to in respawn, seething. “Bleedin’ hell,” he hissed.

This was almost getting too easy. So much for the Australian’s famed tracking skills. Still, Spy thought as he lit a cigarette, things didn’t always have to be challenging, and he would continue teaching this particular lesson until Sniper had learned it. Thoroughly.

No more rifle, Sniper decided. It was time for the bow, and the kukri. The rifle took too much of him away from the space around his body. It focused him far away and that clearly wasn’t going to work right now. He made his way up to a rooftop, on alert, hesitating at every sound to listen. He spotted the BLU Spy next to his Engineer and relaxed a little. At least now he knew where he was and he could stalk him from there. A smirk spread across his face.

Spy saw Sniper see the real BLU Spy, saw him relax a fraction, and he smiled to himself as he moved in for the kill. His knife again, he thought, rather than his pistol.

Sniper nocked an arrow to his bow, sliding down the roof a little to get closer, waiting for the BLU Spy to come within range. He kept himself flat to the roof so it would be difficult to see him from the ground. This arrow was going right through Spy’s neck.

  
“Oh, please, just stay _down_!” Spy murmured in Sniper’s ear, the tip of his knife pressed between the Australian’s shoulder blades. It was a little risky, announcing his presence like that, but…he simply could not resist.

Sniper couldn’t flatten himself away from the knife, so he rolled instead, nearly off the edge of the roof. How the- the BLU Spy was down below, who the hell was this? Was that BLU Spy really the RED Spy? His head spun, but he brought his kukri up to hit the Frenchman.

Spy heard the Announcer declare the battle would end in one minute. If he couldn’t kill Sniper in that time, all he had to do was stay alive. He rolled with Sniper, tangling their bodies together and allowing Sniper less room to swing that absurdly large knife of his. “Overcompensating?” he jeered, “let me show you what I can do with mine.”

Sniper turned the blade to lay along his forearm, finding a space between Spy’s ribs and stabbing downward, nearly right through Spy and almost into himself. “No, mate, I think I’ve got it just fine,” he hissed.

Spy gasped, spluttering. With a wicked sneer, he did the only thing he could—the nasty curve of the blade wouldn’t allow him to pull back, so he grabbed Sniper around the middle and pulled them closer together, hoping he could at least impale the Australian on the tip. He could already feel himself growing weaker, but he could also hear the Announcer counting off the seconds. Just a little longer…he just had to make it to the end of the round. If he died after that, that death at least wouldn’t count against him.

Sniper twisted the blade, feeling the tip grazing his front, but past caring. “Gotcha, ya bloody snake,” he snarled.

“Not letting go,” Spy replied, clutching the Australian tighter. He spat blood on Sniper’s face, defiantly, though the edges of his vision were going dark.

 _Fifteen_.

Fifteen seconds. He could do that. He held onto the sound of that voice, the feeling of the blade, each hissing breath filling his lungs, each stuttering heartbeat, the feeling of Sniper’s hot body pinned beneath his own.

Sniper made a face, pulling the blade out a little, angling it up towards Spy’s heart and forcing it back in, slicing up his own arm in the process.

_Three. Two._

Spy closed his eyes, his head falling forward until his mask was resting on Sniper’s forehead. He willed himself to hold on, just a little longer. Just a second more, and then he could let go. He never heard one.

Spy’s body disappeared off Sniper’s. The Australian sat up with a grunt. He was utterly soaked in rapidly drying blood, from his face down to his hips. “Ah hell,” he groaned. His arm was bleeding pretty badly, and there were a few shallow wounds in his chest area too. He slid off the roof and headed back to base. That damn Spy.

Spy awoke in respawn to the sounds of his teammates cheering in resupply next door. He took a moment to collect himself, leaning against the wall. Alright, today’s escapades had been petty of him, but…it had been so satisfying, killing that smug Australian bastard over and over, and his teammate had no idea who had actually been targeting him.

“Hey, doc!” Sniper jogged to catch up to the German. “D’you mind?” he gestured to himself.

Medic sighed through his nose, but grudgingly raised his medigun. His attention was still focused on his very blood-soaked Heavy. “Very well, though I am technically on my own time now.” Hardly glancing away from Heavy, Medic quickly blasted Sniper with the healing vapours. “Now, go away.”

“‘preciate it,” he grumbled, heading to the showers. The board caught his eye on his way to the showers and he paused, staring at it. All kills were colour coded, and there were a few RED on RED kills on the board. “Hey, Engineer!” he called as his teammate passed, beer in hand. “Would you mind?” he pointed to the board.

The German grumbled in return, jogging a little to catch up to his lover.

Engineer’d had a very good day, and he turned to Sniper with a grin, setting his toolkit down. “Shoot, slim. What c’n I do you for?”

“Whose kills are those?” he pointed to the names.

“Well, ain’t that the darndest thing.” Engineer tapped the board suspiciously, frowning when the colours didn’t change. “You get killed by the enemy Spah today?”

“A few times, the bastard seemed to be after me. And right at the end there I finally got him back,” he indicated all the blood on his clothes.

Engineer tapped his chin, thoughtfully. “Well, you go hit the showers, leave this little puzzle t’me. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.” The Texan was already muttering to himself, Sniper’s presence almost forgotten as he considered and eliminated possibilities.

“Thanks, mate,” Sniper patted his shoulder, heading to the showers to clean himself off.

One advantage of dying right at the end of battle, Spy considered, was that he was perfectly clean. He could skip showering today and head straight to his smoking room for a pleasant evening.

***

A few hours—and several beers—later, Engineer had reached his conclusion. And he didn’t like it. He went to Spy’s smoking room and knocked. “Spy, you got a minute?”

“I’m very busy,” Spy responded, swirling the brandy in his glass and watching the rich, golden liquid run slowly down the sides.

“We need to talk.”

Spy sighed. “Battle is over; bother me tomorrow.”

“Want me to knock the door down? ‘cause I’m more than capable.”

“Don’t you dare, laborer.” Spy was very pleased with himself, and he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone. It would only spoil his mood.

There was the sound of the Gunslinger whirring. “I’m givin’ you five seconds to open up this door, then I’m comin’ in.”

“Je te deteste,” Spy spat, but opened the door a fraction. “Oui?” he asked, composed once more.

“Why were you killin’ our Sniper during battle today?” Engineer demanded.

Spy scoffed, delicately. “I did no such thing. Do not be absurd.”

“The system doesn’t lie. I’m going to tell him what’s goin’ on, obviously, but I thought you might want to explain yourself first.”

Spy sighed, carefully setting his glass down. “If I did, it was for my own reasons which do not concern you, laborer. Clearly, you have made some miscalculation, but do not attempt to place the blame on me.”

Engineer gritted his teeth, leaving. Spy was an abrasive asshole at the best of times, but he seemed to be even worse today. He headed out of the base to see Sniper.

Sniper had his clothes drying on the line and he was enjoying a little fire outside of his camper. “Hey, Truckie. Figure out what was goin’ on today?”

“I reckon so, but I don’t much care for it, and I don’t figure you will, neither.”

The Australian stood up, offering Engineer a beer and a lawn chair, then slouched back into his chair.

“Thanks, pardner.” Engineer slouched into the chair and cracked open the beer with his Gunslinger. “I think the board was right—it was our own Spah who was killin’ you all day.”

“Our …hm,” Sniper grimaced. “I think I know why.”

Engineer laughed, short and nasty. “Well, I’m glad you do, because I ain’t got a clue. I’m all ears if you care to enlighten me, but I understand if this is somethin’ between the two of you. He was in his smokin’ room, when I left him.”

“It’s cause I’m fuckin’ BLU Scout,” he said, earnestly. “I think there might be somethin’ to the rumour that Spy’s his dad.”

“Oh. Oh. Well, shucks, boy, if that don’t beat all.” Engineer laughed until he had to lift his goggles to wipe tears from his eyes. “You’ve got yourself in a right mess, aincha?” He took a long pull of his beer, slowly shaking his head at Sniper. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Handle it. Reaaal professional like,” he winked at Engineer.

“That’s about what I figured. Well…an’ this is just between you an’ me, of course. I got my professional pride, too, but…I’d hate for him to break the two of you up. Not that you asked for my opinion.” Engineer saluted Sniper with his beer and gave him a broad grin. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He hauled himself to his feet and ambled off in the direction of his workshop.

“Thanks, mate!” Sniper called after him. No, this called for a phone call.

***

“You wanted to speak to me, Sniper?” Miss Pauling’s face filled the screen, frowning slightly. It was almost never good news when one of her boys needed to contact her directly.

“Yeah… I had a favour to ask, actually.” Sniper wasn’t usually one for favours, but Scout had refused to give up his mum’s number.

Miss Pauling raised an eyebrow. Being asked for favours from the mercenaries was hardly unusual, but she’d never gotten a request from Sniper before. “Alright,” she said, cautiously, “let me know what it is, and I’ll see what I can do. Just remember—you’ll owe me. And I always collect.”

“I know, ma’am. I wanted Scout’s mum’s number. Nothin’ too strenuous,” he grinned.

“You know what, I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to assume you have a good reason for needing it.” She flipped through a stack of files, then read off a number. “On one condition—this does not come back to bite me on the ass. This is all on you if anything goes wrong. You didn’t hear this from me, clear?”

“Yes ma’am, clear as day,” he promised.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later, Sniper. And…good luck.” She terminated the call.

Sniper took a deep breath, and called Scout’s mum.

“Hello?”

“Hello ma’am, I’m your son’s boyfriend, Sniper.” Scout didn’t know his real name, so surely he would’ve referred to him as Sniper to her.

“Sniper! Oh, that’s a nice surprise!” She sounded astonishingly like Scout, especially when she held the phone away from her mouth to yell at someone to be quiet.

“I thought it’d be nice to talk to ya, but Scout was nervous about givin’ me your number,” he admitted, grinning.

“Aw, well, it’s nice to hear from ya anyway. I’ve heard so much about you! How is my little slugger? You’re treatin’ him right?” Her voice held more than an edge of threat.

“Yeah, he’s doin’ well. He talks about you all the time. And I am, cross my heart. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about somethin’ specific too, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Alright,” she said, sounding a little more guarded.

“I’m sure you know Scout and I aren’t on the same team,” he started, “which wouldn’t be a problem, except that the Spy on my team, RED Spy, he’s been takin’ our relationship real personal.”

“Uh-huh,” she prompted, with just a hint of fear in her voice. She wasn’t going to reveal anything until he’d explained how much he knew.

Sniper winced a little. This might not be a great way to endear him to Scout’s mum. “There’s a rumour that Spy’s his dad, you know. I understand that’s real personal and none of my business, but that bastard stabbed me in the back a few times today and I thought I’d talk to you first about this, before sinkin’ to his level and tryin’ to murder him right back.”

Scout’s ma sighed. “I’m gonna take a chance and trust ya, because my boy does. It’s true,” she said, very quietly, “but if Scout finds out, it’s you I’m coming for. I used to be a Scout, you know,” she added, voice bright and bubbly and somehow the most menacing yet.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, smiling. “Scout won’t hear anythin’ of it. I just need Spy to realize I mean business. Is there uh, anything you can suggest to help me with Spy? I’m sure you’re better at dealin’ with him than anyone.”

Sniper could practically hear the grin in her voice. “Oh, I think I know a thing or two to make him leave you be. Can’t have him stabbing my boy’s boyfriend, especially a teammate! He’s usually less…well, I think he feels bad. For not being around, you know? This is the only thing he knows how to do, but I’ll tell him to back off.”

“Thanks, ma’am, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I haven’t told Scout about him targetin’ me, I didn’t know if you wanted me tellin’ him and I didn’t wanna worry him.” He felt the itch between his shoulder blades lessen. He’d been paranoid every since he’d had his chat with Engineer. Who knew if Spy would be satisfied only spying on him and stabbing him during battles?

“You’re very welcome! It’s nice to hear from you, and you give my little Scout a kiss from me! Oh—I guess you can’t tell him it’s from me. But you’ll know. You’re using lots of lube, right?”

He turned bright red, “Ma’am!” he laughed, awkwardly. “We’re always careful,” he added lamely. “It was nice to talk to you and hopefully we’ll get to meet each other soon.”

“I’d like that; you stop by any time, I’d love to see both of you. I’m glad you called, and don’t worry. I’ll handle Spy.”

“Thanks again, ma’am. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Sniper. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a phone call to make.”

***

The next day, Spy was in a foul mood, and he didn’t especially care who he took it out on. Except, of course, for Sniper. Him, he avoided. But no such limit had been set on the enemy Sniper, and he targeted the BLU with ruthless precision for the entire duration of the day’s battle.

Sniper felt remarkably calm all day, and was grinning by the time they packed it in. RED had won again, though it was much closer this time. He hadn’t been bothered by the Spy at all.

Engineer offered Sniper a beer after the battle. “Hey, slim. Today go a mite better for ya?”

“No spies to speak of,” he grinned. “I think I fixed my problem.”

“I’m mighty glad to hear it. You mind tellin’ me how you managed that?”

Spy brushed past the pair, a look of disgust on his face, but he remained silent. Though they could hear the squeak of his glove as he clenched his hand into a fist.

Sniper’s smile grew even bigger. “I went over his head. Made a phone call,” he winked.

“Didja now? Shucks, boy, good for you! Mighty impressive, beatin’ him at his own game.” Engineer grinned back, fiercely. “I might get you to help me some time, if he gets too big for his britches again.”

The Australian chuckled, “It wasn’t much, really. Just found his weak spot and took a shot. Hopefully he’ll be tolerable for a little while.”

“Well, none the less, I’d like to shake your hand.” Engineer held out his organic one. “Hope you’ll pardon me usin’ the left.”

Sniper shook, patting Engineer’s shoulder. “I’d shake either of your hands, mate.”

Engineer blushed a little beneath his hardhat. “Shucks. Aincha sweet.” He walked off, shaking his head in wonder. “Outfoxed that ol’ fox at his own game. Don’t that just beat all.”

Face starting to hurt from smiling, Sniper headed back to his camper to drink and celebrate with Scout.

**Author's Note:**

> Relationship-less (well, I guess he's in a relationship, but she's not around all the time) Spy is the worst. He's such a dick.


End file.
